The Seekers
by SallyJAvery
Summary: If you've been reading 'It is the cause, my soul' then you'll know that I'm putting up a series of one-shot stories about The Seekers - a merry little band of Dark-Arts fighting former Hogwarts students. Most of these are background to things that have been mentioned in IitC and go by way of character/story development. Rated T for *language*. Marked Complete but I may add more.
1. One

**A/N: As promised, the first of a few stories about 'The Seekers' that I've been working on in order to give myself some background for 'It is the Cause, My Soul'**

 **Hope you like - let me know your thoughts x**

 **All characters are property of J.K. Rowling, and quotations are taken from _A Tale of Two Cities_**

* * *

THE SEEKERS - 1 - DRACO RECEIVES A VISIT

* * *

Bored.

B-O-R-E-D.

The Ministry cells had some sort of warding on them that made them impermeable to magic. Part of him was interested in the quality of the charms, but mostly he was struggling with the incipient nausea that the absence of magic brought on.

They'd given him a muggle novel to read, which was frankly insulting, but after a few days he was almost climbing the walls and so reluctantly picked up the soft, worn paperback. Who even jacketed a book in _paper_? Honestly it was as though muggles were determined to broadcast their inferiority. He ignored the way it flexed in his hands, and the sweet, vanilla-like scent of its yellowed pages.

It took him less than a day to finish, and when he flicked the soft, orange cover closed Draco sat back on his cot, staring at the blank stone wall in front of him.

Lucy Manette was utterly infuriating in her goodness, and Sydney Carton…he blew out a breath and tugged on his hair before smoothing it back over his head in a futile attempt at neatening it. In the week that he had been in the cell, the week since the final battle at Hogwarts, he had been offered only minimal access to hygiene facilities and his normally impeccable hair was suffering the consequences.

He felt like bloody Charles Darnay in his stupid cell, only he wasn't a complete twat.

After lying and glaring at the ceiling for an hour or so Draco had just sat up, had just turned back to the beginning of the book, was just reading the first paragraph again, and was just refusing to admit to itself that this Dickens chap might have a way with words, when the door to the cell rattled and then swung open.

He threw the book on the floor and crossed his arms almost guiltily, glowering at the now open doorway and the pair who stood framed by it. If he could have deepened his scowl he would have, but Draco found that his heart wasn't really in it. McGonagall gave him her trademark piercing stare over the top of her spectacles, her mouth moving into a not-quite smile as he met her eyes. Beside her was Shacklebolt, his calm face completely impassive.

Draco waited for the familiar swoop of hatred, but felt nothing except resignation. Unbidden, the novel's words came back to him – "I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss" – and he realised that he was surely seeing two of the architects of the future of wizarding Britain.

A future where there could surely be no place for a former Death Eater.

He cast his eyes down to the novel on the floor, and then looked back at McGonagall with a wry twist to his mouth. "It is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known?" He lifted his voice, making the quotation a question.

McGonagall's eyes actually twinkled at him, and Shacklebolt let out a low laugh. "It would appear I owe you a drink, Minerva."

Draco's eyes darted between the pair of them, and narrowed slightly. They weren't behaving like people who had come to deliver a death warrant. "Why would you owe her a drink?" he asked, trying to keep the note of childish petulance from his voice.

McGonagall smiled at him then, which was thoroughly unnerving. She turned and spoke to someone out of sight on the other side of the door, "I think we can lift those wards for the time being," and Draco felt, like descending into a warm bath, the return of magic.

He wished he could have helped the choked sigh of relief, but he didn't really have much dignity left. McGonagall was still smiling as she waved her wand, conjuring a table, three comfortable armchairs and a tea set as if from nowhere. "He owes me a drink because I bet him you would read the book. Now, won't you join us for some tea?"

Trying to compose his features into a suitably frosty glare, Draco rose from his cot and came to sit down at the table. McGonagall poured three cups of fragrant tea and gestured encouragingly to Draco, who sipped carefully, never moving his eyes from his former professor's face. He could feel Shacklebolt's unwavering gaze on him but chose to ignore it for the time being. When they had all sat in silence for nearly a minute, Draco cracked. " _Why_ are you here?"

McGonagall glanced at Shacklebolt before giving Draco a small smile. "The Minister and I have managed to secure terms for your release, and we would like to propose them to you."

Draco tried to stay very, very still, but frowned at Shacklebolt, "Minister?"

Shacklebolt gave that deep, rumbling laugh again, "Indeed, Mr Malfoy. And I have been working with the new Headmistress of Hogwarts to see how we can go about," he gave a pause, seeming to search for the appropriate word, "… _rehabilitating_ those former students who came under, ah, _unfortunate_ influences over the past few years."

Draco's mind whirred as he interpreted the older man's words. "You mean to say, if I agree to doing what you tell me to do, I won't have to go to Azkaban?"

Shacklebolt and McGonagall shared a look, before McGonagall turned back to Draco, "There is a house arrest option, but you would have to surrender your wand, and given that we suspect you can work wandless magic," she gave him a penetrating look that had Draco swallowing nervously, "then your place of residence would have to be warded."

"Fuck that," Draco snapped, blushing as soon as his mind caught up with his mouth.

Shacklebolt gave him a smile at that, but McGonagall's expression held the tiniest hint of worry. "We thought it likely you would see things that way. Both of your parents have received hearings before the Wizengamot, and your mother has accepted a pardon under caution, much as we hope you will." She paused slightly, before continuing in a business-like manner, "Unfortunately your father felt the terms of such a pardon to be 'humiliating' and so has been placed under house arrest at Malfoy Manor."

Draco was unsurprised by this, and felt it best not to voice his suspicions that his father would not be a problem much longer, given the well-hidden stock of poisons at the family home. He and Lucius had barely been on speaking terms by the War's end. He felt certain that by accepting this pardon he would probably drive the final wedge between them, and noted his own indifference. If Lucius was going to put pride ahead of survival under the new regime then that was his problem.

Shacklebolt and McGonagall were both watching him, waiting for a reaction, so Draco took another sip of tea while he gathered his thoughts. "My mother is safe, then?"

McGonagall nodded, her face relaxing slightly, "She has taken up residence at her Paris apartment, and is assisting the Ministry in conducting new treaties with their European counterparts."

Draco allowed himself a small smile: bossing people around and performing a vital role, in one of the most fashionable cities on Earth. How very like his mother. He tried to keep his mind on his own situation, "What do you want from me then?"

At a wave of McGonagall's hand, Shacklebolt took over, "We're putting together a little team of young wizards and witches who have proven themselves equal to challenging circumstances over the past few years, and we'd like you to be a part of it."

Draco's eyebrows pinched together, "That's a hell of a lot of trust to put in me."

Shacklebolt nodded, "Ye-es, but your wand will be tested and we will be fitting you with a tracker for the first twelve months, after which –"

"After which," McGonagall cut in, "We will consider options for continuing your education. You'll be taking private lessons with Shacklebolt and me over the course of this year to prepare you, and we'll consider the direction that we'd like things to take in a few months' time."

She was hedging deliberately, he could tell. "What aren't you saying?"

McGonagall huffed an irritable sigh, "Honestly, Mr Malfoy, _why_ you can't just trust that we have your best interests at heart?"

"Because you've also got _your_ best interests at heart," Draco shot back, " _What_ am I to be taking lessons in, and _where will you be sending me to study_?"

McGonagall didn't answer straight away, but her eyes drifted behind Draco to where he knew the tatty little novel lay on the floor. He felt the blood drain from his face. " _Muggles_. You're going to teach me about _muggles_. That's…that's…" _Did this Dickens happen write anything else?_ "That's just _cruel_."

She gave him a sharp look, and Shacklebolt's laugh rumbled through the room, "We never said we wouldn't make the punishment fit the crime, Mr Malfoy. Do you accept our terms?"

Draco made a heroic effort to kill Shacklebolt with the power of his stare as he finished his tea, then, screwing his face into a grimace, heaved a sigh. "I accept your bloody terms, _Minister_." He felt the charge of strong magic, and realised the verbal contract had also taken the form of a magically binding oath. _Typical_.

Still, he'd be free, and working with this force of…Draco paused, horrified, as played back the Minister's words.

 _Young wizards and witches who have proven themselves equal to challenging circumstances_.

He had to suppress a growl.

Why did it always have to be fucking Potter?


	2. Two

**A/N: I've been really bad and instead of posting more IitC I've mired myself in editing it...if you're reading that then I promise the last few chapters will appearing soon! In the meantime more 'Seekers'.**

 ***SPOILER ALERT* If you haven't yet read IitC and you think you'd like to then this little sequence does contain spoilers.**

 **As ever, hope you like, and please let me know what you think!**

* * *

THE SEEKERS - 2 - MATSUMOTO

* * *

The sky outside the window could accurately be described as glowering, and Draco Malfoy saw no reason not to glower back. Of course McGonagall had decided to send them to Japan in fucking July, he thought, as the rain sheeted down outside. He gave a quiet snort of disgust and turned away from the window to survey the small, plain hostel room. He understood the need to keep a low profile, but this was -

"Shit." The angular, fiery-haired witch perched on the futon on the other side of the room whispered, staring at the charmed parchment in her hands.

"What?" Draco asked, dragging his hands through his hair, still damp from the rainstorm they'd trudged through to get to the rendezvous point.

Ginny glanced up at him, biting her lip. "It's Harry."

Draco's eyes narrowed at her tone. "What's Harry?"

"The Seeker on the ground. The one we're here to help. It's Harry." Ginny winced at the expression on his face, but her voice was hard as she continued: "Come on Malfoy, you two were going to have to work together eventually."

Draco turned to glare out of the window again, before half-smirking. "True enough. And I guess if there's anyone who would be incompetent enough not to be able to handle an Oni alone it would probably be Potter." He could see the Weasel girl's scowl reflected in the glass of the window, and had to suppress the chuckle that rose in his throat.

"That sort of attitude is hardly going to help matters, you know."

He allowed himself a small smile as he turned back to her. "Sometimes you sound just like bloody Granger." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to retort, "I know, I know. I'm laying off. When's Potter getting here?"

Ginny glanced down at the parchment again, "He's…uh…downstairs."

Draco muttered an indelicate curse word that would have earned him an icy reproach from his mother as he slipped his wand into his pocket and gathered up his small rucksack. He'd placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on it which meant he was actually carrying enough junk for the three of them to survive in the mountains for nearly a week. Draco felt a measure of relief at his own tendency to overpack; knowing Potter he had brought nothing more than his wand and broom.

Ginny was waiting for him by the door and Draco rolled his eyes at her expression, "Merlin and Nimue, Weasel Princess, I can be _civil_." He glanced sideways at her, "Do you think the same can be said for the Chosen One?" He watched as her eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything and Draco snickered as she turned on her heel and flounced ahead. A clear, resounding _No_.

* * *

When Ginny was ten, Fred and George had taken her out to the Orchard one afternoon and taught her to punch with her left fist.

"Because," Fred had said, "If it ever comes to it of course you want to be able to hex away with your wand arm but -"

"- being able to land a really good left hook _while_ you're hexing away," George continued, "is only ever going to be an advantage."

Ginny could remember the sound of their laughter as she watched the glorified pissing contest play out in front of her between her boyfriend and her reluctant ally, feeling her right hand tightening around her wand and her left hand curling into a fist.

She had wisely chosen to stay under the awning above the hostel door but the boys were in the carpark hurling insults at one another and they were both managing to get soaked through as they did it. She sighed, casting a _Muffliato_ and a muggle-repelling charm over the pair of them, then folded her arms in resignation. They needed it out of their systems if they were going to be able to work together; she just hoped they'd be done before it got dark.

"- you turncoat, bigoted, evil fucking _Death Eater!"_ Harry roared.

"Oh very _good_ , Potter, how fucking _original_." Malfoy screwed up his face as he made a cruel but not inaccurate imitation of Harry's voice, "'You're so _evil_ Draco, signing up for these stupid deathtrap missions like the great big _evil_ dickhead that you are.' Well _fuck you_." His voice had lowered to a hiss, his fury no less vehement than Harry's.

Harry stabbed a finger in the other boy's face, and to his credit Malfoy didn't flinch. "Don't even pretend you're doing this for any reason other than to save your own skin, and who cares whose skin gets in the fucking way while you do it."

"Yes of course. Why don't we ask your girlfriend again who rescued her from getting her arm chewed off in Katagarama?"

Harry's face flushed, "Don't you _dare_ bring Ginny into this, you cowardly prick I -"

"Don't _you_ dare call me a coward." Malfoy spat. His voice was low and even and lethal, his eyes glittering, "Bigot, snob, toadying arsehole; I don't care. You _don't_ call me a coward."

Harry stared at Malfoy, clearly unnerved by the outburst. Both of them were breathing hard as they eyed one another, having seemingly reached an impasse. Harry cast an uncertain sideways glance at Ginny. She kept her expression neutral as she shrugged, "Are you finished?"

Harry's eyes flicked back to Malfoy, who met his questioning gaze with a level glare for a couple of seconds before blowing out a breath and nodding. Ginny watched as the tension melted out of both boys and tried to quell the desire to growl with frustration. Nearly eight years of hating one another, a whole wizarding war with them pitched on opposing sides, and apparently it could all be solved by knocking their stupid thick heads together.

 _Men were idiots._

* * *

"This is worse than the Forest of bloody Dean." Harry gasped as they continued up the narrow, rocky path into the mountains. It had only just stopped raining on this, the third day that they had been in the mountains, and they had yet to catch anything but dead trails for the Oni that was supposedly terrorising the local magical creatures.

Ahead of him on the path, Draco paused and looked back over his shoulder. Potter and Princess Weasel were in decent shape but they obviously hadn't taken McGonagall's suggestion that they get used to hard physical circumstances very seriously. Draco had never thought that he'd be grateful for Blaise's insane vanity, but his friend was unnervingly obsessed with muggle fitness regimes and Draco had to admit he could see the benefits of going for ten-mile training runs now that he found himself halfway up a mountain and still breathing evenly.

Draco turned his eyes back up the steep mountain path, noting the lavender cloud that was spreading across the sky, orange bleeding into it from where the sunset was hidden by the mountaintop. "We should probably make camp soon, Gryffindorks." He could feel the air turning thick and staticky, surely the prelude to another bloody thunderstorm, and he for one would rather not be putting up a tent in the sheeting rain for the third night running.

Potter finally drew level with him, breathing hard, but nodded as his eyes skated across the gathering storm clouds. "I hate to say it, but I agree."

Draco smirked at him, "About making camp, or about the nickname?

Potter snorted and punched his shoulder in a matey fashion that would have seemed out of the question a few days before. "Fuck off, Malfoy."

"You two are the worst." Ginny sounded exhausted, and as she reached the little outcrop where the boys were stood she sat down without ceremony, flopping backwards onto her pack. "I still don't understand why we couldn't have conducted the search by air."

Draco was about to snap a derisory comment at her but was surprised when Potter beat him to it, "You know that's stupid, Gin. Even if we weren't spotted by hikers, an Oni is hard enough to track when you're on the ground, let alone flying over it."

Ginny pulled a face and seemed about to shoot a scathing retort back at Harry when she suddenly went quiet, frowning and lifting her hand from where it had rested on the scrubby ground. Wordlessly, she turned her palm to show the sticky, dark liquid on it to the boys, then hastily scrambled to her feet. Barely hidden behind the rock that she had been leaning against was a trail of blood, gleaming darkly in the fading light, and leading away from the path into a narrow cleft in the rocks.

"Did Weasel Princess just find our Oni's trail by sitting on it?" Draco's voice was incredulous, his relief at their break warring with his disbelief.

"You. Are. Amazing." Harry leant down and kissed a surprised looking Ginny, who grinned into his mouth for a moment before seeming to collect herself.

"Oh, ew, I've still got blood all over my hand and my bum." She twisted, trying without success to look over her shoulder around her pack, and nearly went toppling off the edge of the path. Draco dropped his face into his hands as Harry steadied Ginny with one hand. _Rehabilitation_ , he reminded himself. _Play nice with the Gryffindorks._

"So," he coughed, trying to ignore the fact that Harry was attempting to brush blood and dirt from the seat of Ginny's shorts. _Did Potter enjoy ignoring the fact that he was a wizard?_ "HEY!" Harry and Ginny looked up at him in surprise and Draco bit his cheek to stop himself growling, "Would the two of you rather investigate an Oni's lair at nighttime or camp within its hunting ground?"

The two Gryffindor wizards exchanged a look, and it was Harry who turned to Draco first, face twisted into a grimace, "I mean, neither of those sounds like a particularly attractive option."

Draco smirked at him, making his smile as evil as he possibly could. "Scared, Potter?"

Behind the dark-haired wizard Draco saw Ginny roll her eyes and open her mouth, presumably to berate him, but then Harry smiled back, a keen-edged little grin that Draco hadn't seen before but made him suddenly and improbably nervous. "I'm not an idiot, _Malfoy_ , so of course I'm scared. But please," he gestured with a sweep of his arm, "Which course of action would you prefer?"

 _Fuck_ , Draco thought. _Nice work making whatever fiasco this descends into entirely my fault_.


	3. Three

**A/N: One again, if you're not caught up on 'It is the Cause, My Soul', this little drabble might contain spoilers.**

* * *

THE SEEKERS - 3 - GLOXINIA

* * *

"Longbottom."

Neville made a non-committal noise, his focus on the small plant in front of him which appeared to be wafting gently, though there was no breeze in the room. Theo cleared his throat, " _Longbottom_. There's a girl in the kitchen."

At that the other man looked up, frowning slightly before he smiled, "Of course. Sorry, forgot to mention it. Professor McGonagall said Luna's going to come and help with the refinements to the charms potions you're designing."

Theo raised an incredulous eyebrow, "The girl in the kitchen, who is wearing a necklace made of acorns, is going to help refine my potions?"

Hearing the tone of disbelief Neville straightened, deciding that he could probably complete his notes on Sopophorous shrubs later. "She's a little quirky," he said, "But she's brilliant at charms, so you should probably give her a chance." He gave Theo his best reassuring smile, silently wondering what on earth McGonagall was thinking giving the quiet, sarcastic Slytherin Luna as a lab partner. Over the past few months Neville and Theo had built up a comfortable rapport, and from what he had come to know of the other wizard Neville was fairly sure that his precise, analytical way of working was about to be turned on its head.

Theo's lips thinned, but he turned on his heel to return to the kitchen. Neville hurried after him, nervously wondering what Luna might have managed to get up to in Theo's absence. Upon entering the large, bright room Neville was relieved to see the blonde witch sitting quietly at the table, poring over a sheaf of notes that Theo had made in his neat handwriting. Her hair appeared to have been charmed to float in a nimbus about her head, and with the combination of this and the acorn necklace that she was wearing, Neville had to admit that he could see why Theo had been alarmed to find her among his experiments.

Luna looked up as the two wizards and smiled dreamily, "Hello Neville. Have you persuaded Theo to trust me yet?"

Neville glanced to the side to see that Theo was eyeing Luna warily, nibbling on his lip. "I'm sure that you're perfectly capable of doing that yourself, Luna," he said slowly, nervous of putting himself in the middle.

The girl cocked her head at him, and Neville saw her eyes gleam with mischief, "I guess I'll have to be." She transferred the look to Theo, "I've been looking forward to working with you for ages. My mother told me all about you."

Neville looked back at Theo again, just as the other wizard frowned in confusion, "Your mother?"

Luna nodded, rising from the stool and leaning to rummage in her bag, "She said you'd be sceptical at first, but when I told you about the ideas I have for incorporating hardening and levitating charms into your strength potions you'd start to come around."

Theo's frown deepened, but when he spoke the scepticism that had made Neville so nervous earlier seemed to have gone, "With the spells attached to ingredients or incantations made over the potion as it brews?"

Luna stood up and gave him a quizzical smile. "Ingredients, silly. Saying them over the potion would just turn your cauldron into a solid block of floating stone. But you knew that." She was holding a small plant pot, which she held out to Theo. "My mother told me I should give you this."

Neville folded his arms, lifting one hand to hide his smile as he saw the plant that Luna had given Theo. The tawny-haired wizard stared from the tiny, flowered shrub in his hands to the witch stood before him, smiling vaguely and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Did she say why?"

Luna blinked at him, then shrugged. "No-o. I was only nine when she died and she said I would understand when the time was right."

The confusion on Theo's face warred with something darker, and Neville was reminded that his mother, too, was dead. Finally Theo cleared his throat, "Do you – do you understand now?"

The smile that Luna directed at him was utterly radiant, and Neville almost felt guilty for intruding on the moment when she stepped forward, planted a light kiss on Theo's mouth, and then slipped past them both, calling over her shoulder, "I think so."

Theo's cheeks flamed as he looked down again at the plant, its dark purple flowers, with their white-edged petals, undeniably lovely. Finally he looked up at Neville, "What…what just happened?"

Neville didn't try to disguise his grin, "Gloxinia. Her mother was a Seer, you know."

* * *

 **(Gloxinia is believed to symbolise love at first sight)**


	4. Four

**A/N: Definite, DEFINITE IitC Spoilers**

* * *

THE SEEKERS - 4 - WHISKERS IN A TWIST

* * *

"Potter."

Harry looked up from the stack of reports at the blonde wizard stood in front of his desk, and scowled. "What?"

Draco Malfoy's face was the picture of cool disdain, "Have lunch with me, would you?"

Harry dropped his eyes to Draco's hands, which were clasped lightly in front of him. The right middle finger was tapping a gentle rhythm against the left knuckles. Harry rose from his chair, grabbing his cloak from the seatback. "Let's go."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco gave him a look of confusion.

"I said, 'Let's go," Harry gestured exaggeratedly towards the door to the DMLE.

"Where's the exasperated sigh, the ' _really ferret'?_ The ' _not now I'm actually a very important auror'_?" Draco's eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

"Normally your requests are less of the polite variety and more in the run of 'come on, loser, we're going for lunch.'" Harry started walking as he spoke, and Draco followed behind him.

"I've never called you a loser."

"You've called me many variations on the theme." Harry pressed the button for the lift, looked up and down the deserted corridor, and then met Draco's eye. "Are you going to tell me what's got you all worked up now, or should I wait until we're out of the building?"

Draco's expression didn't change, but two spots of pink crept into his pale cheeks as he followed Harry into the lift. "What makes you think something's up?"

Harry sighed, lifting his glasses to rub at his eyes. "You're twitchy, Malfoy. And you asked me _nicely_ to come to lunch with you." As the bell pinged to announce their arrival at Atrium level Harry stepped out and strode towards the Flooplaces. "We're not doing that, by the way," he said over his shoulder.

"Not doing _what_?" Draco hissed, catching up to Harry just as he took a handful of Floo powder from the pot.

"Going for lunch. I'm going to need alcohol before I can cope with whatever's got your whiskers in a twist, so we're going to the pub." He didn't wait to hear Draco argue with him before he stepped into the emerald green flames and yelled, "The Leaky Cauldron!"

By the time Draco had stepped from the fireplace and was dusting imaginary soot from his immaculate robes, Harry had placed an order at the bar. When the blonde wizard reached his side he slid two glasses towards him.

"What is this?" Draco frowned.

"Boilermaker," Harry said, tipping back his shot of Firewhiskey, "Aah! Muggles and their endless innovation, eh."

Draco winced slightly, but lifted his own shot glass and swallowed the contents before grimacing, "Merlin, Potter, I thought you were rich. Why are you buying broomstripper?"

Harry shrugged, "If I was buying it to savour it, I'd buy the good stuff. I'm not, so I won't. Cheers," he said, raising his pint glass to Draco's.

The blonde rolled his eyes, a habit he'd managed to acquire from Hermione over the last couple of years, and Harry fought to suppress his grin as Draco begrudgingly clinked glasses with him.

"So," he said, after they'd sat in silence sipping their ales for a good five minutes. "Did you just want the pleasure of my company or -"

"I got promoted." Draco murmured, more to his half-empty glass than to Harry.

"Oh _no_ ," Harry's eyes widened, "That's the one where they give you a more important job and more money isn't it." He clasped Draco's shoulder, "Mate, that's _terrible_."

"You're fucking hilarious Potter." Draco's voice was still low but Harry realised suddenly that he sounded truly miserable.

"Well," he said evenly, "Why don't you explain to me why this promotion is a bad thing."

"It's Junior Envoy -" Suddenly things started to seem a little clearer " – in New York."

Harry whistled a sigh, "How long for?"

Draco grimaced again, "At least two years."

"And Hermione starts at Cambridge in –"

"September."

Harry squinted down into the bottom of his suddenly empty pint glass. "Ah. Yes. Why aren't you talking to Theo about this?"

There was a drop of moisture on the bartop and Draco pushed at it with his finger, a tiny nudge of silent, wandless magic. "He's still at that monastery in Tibet with Luna." He looked up at Harry, face pained. "She sent me a _howler_ last time I tried to Floocall, Potter. A _howler_. From a _silent retreat_. It was fucking _disturbing_."

Trying not to grin, Harry asked, "And Blaise?"

Draco waved a hand, "On location somewhere. Lots of muggles, can't get close to him."

"Pansy?" Harry heard the whine of desperation in his own voice.

Draco shot him a pained look, "Are you joking?"

"Yeah, yeah." Harry muttered. "I think we need another round."

Signalling to Tom, Draco drained the last from his own glass, then set it down carefully on the polished wood and fixed Harry with his pale gaze, "Do you think I should take it?"

Harry frowned, "It's the Junior Envoy position to the Magical Congress of America. I thought you had designs on being head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation."

"I also have designs on Granger not breaking up with me."

About to take a sip of his fresh beer, Harry screwed up his face in confusion, "I don't see how the two are linked?"

"Because, Potter!" Draco's voice was an angry hiss, "I want her to come with me."

"Well ask her, then. She'll understand, you know. Hermione's very pragmatic."

"If she comes with me, we have to be married. They won't issue her a visa otherwise."

"Malfoy." Harry tried very hard not to let impatience bite at his voice, "You two have been engaged for nearly five years. I don't think Hermione has a problem with the idea of marrying you."

"Potter you don't understand!" Draco's voice had acquired a distinct edge of panic, and Harry looked at him in alarm. "It's…sort of a joke how long we've been engaged, and we've always said we'd get married after she finished studying, and I want it to be perfect, not some rush job for the purposes of convenience, and I'm asking her to give up her life here and change her plans and _actually marry me_ and -"

He stopped when Harry started laughing. "What is _funny_?"

"Oh Godric," Harry wheezed, "Malfoy. Draco. You're _such a prat._ "

* * *

 **(For LightOfEvolution)**


End file.
